


Cambridge and a Clotpole

by Jake



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cambridge, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:53:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jake/pseuds/Jake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting accepted into Cambridge university, Merlin is prepared for an entirely different life than the one he's used to in Ealdor. He is not prepared to be sharing a tutor with the arrogant, prattish (and slightly wonderful) Prince Arthur.<br/>Involving lots of free fudge samples, pancakes and ice cream. And maybe some magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interviews and Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the very front of the desk was a brass plaque, also antique, which read ‘Prof. Gaius, Dept. of History’, and as Merlin was reading this, the person whose name it bore coughed loudly, and he looked up, steeling himself.  
> “So, Mr Emrys,” Professor Gaius began, “Why do you want to study history?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, to the anon on tumblr who asked for the paragraphs to be spaced out, I'm not really very good at this, so is this okay?  
> Also I will finish spacing them out but I have to pack for a holiday right now so they'll probably be done Sunday night. Sorry it's not all finished.

Surprisingly, it was warm for the time of year, and Merlin found himself shrugging off the thick coat his mum had insisted on him taking, bundling it into his backpack as the train drove away behind him. As the screeching of wheels faded into the distance, the excitable chatter of those on the station seemed to grow louder, and he glanced around to see that the majority of the people seemed to be his own age, and were carrying small suitcases and overnight bags. All around, he could hear snatches of conversations about Kings’, Jesus and Trinity, English, Law and Physics, acceptance and…rejection. For the first time since the email, Merlin felt a knot of anxiety form in the bottom of his stomach, and he bit his lip nervously, unsure of himself in amongst the crowd. There were a few people looking worried, clutching files or books in one hand and holding a bag with the other, trying to struggle through the throng alone, but it was mainly groups of friends confidently discussing anticipated parties or how far apart their potential colleges were. Families were dotted here and there, clustered around eighteen year olds and giving them words of advice and reassurance and Merlin allowed himself a brief second to wish his mother hadn't been working, before grabbing his suitcase and dragging it behind him along the platform.

Sighing in relief as he emerged into the fresh air, he found a smile fighting to worm its way onto his face as the reality of his situation became clear. Of 929 applicants, he’d been in the 400 selected to continue to the interview process, and now there was just the interview itself to get over and done with. Terrified though he was for it, the joy he felt at being in that final 400 could not be quashed, and he knew that whatever happened today, he would have achieved something. So, with a grin lifting his cheeks, he continued down the road, suitcase bumping along behind him. Passing a few non-descript sort of roads, he followed the trail of interviewees until he came to a sort of crossroads with two different paths to take. Fishing the map he’d picked up on the train out of his back pocket, he unfolded it and squinted at it until he saw ‘Hills Road’ on the route he’d drawn onto it. He took the right fork and kept walking, passing a French and an Indian and several sets of traffic lights before he drew up to an old church. Bricks coloured a dark, greyish brown, it stood out dramatically from the rest of the comparatively modern street, and Merlin thought the carving of the saint between the two oak doors was wonderfully realistic. Suddenly there was a rough collision with his shoulder and he stumbled sideways, mumbling out a ‘sorry’ as two men in football shirts pushed past him, chuckling as he nearly toppled onto the pavement. A blush spread to the tips of his ears as he realised he’d been standing still in the middle of the street, gazing at the church. Light footsteps behind him indicated that someone was approaching, and he turned back to see a boy jogging up to him, a navy holdall slung across his back.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked concernedly, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.  
“I-yeah I’m fine, thanks.” he replied, a little confused, ears growing pinker.  
“I saw those guys up there push past you.” The boy explained, flicking his hair out of chocolate eyes which seemed older than the rest of his face. “Just ignore them; you get people like that everywhere.”  
Nodding mutely, Merlin was embarrassed and disappointed to realise that he couldn’t find his voice, and hoped the sudden bout of shyness would have completely worn off by his interview later.  
“I’m Lance.” Upon seeing that Merlin wasn’t going to offer anything more, the man held out the hand that had been on his shoulder, smiling encouragingly at him.  
“Merlin.” Came the reply, when he was able to unstick his throat. He transferred his map back into his pocket, before grasping Lance’s hand with his own and shaking it.  
“So,” said Lance, seeming to take the handshake as an acceptance of friendship, “Where are you staying?”  
Forehead creasing in confusion, Merlin managed to stutter “How did you know I was-“  
“Your bag?” Lance interrupted, eyebrows raised. “I’m guessing you’re here for the interviews.”  
“Uh, yeah. You too?”  
“Biology.” Nodded Lance, before turning to Merlin. “You?”  
“History.” He mumbled, inexplicably unsure of himself, as usually he boasted of his choice of course. Then again, usually he was surrounded by villagers from Ealdor who were lucky to get three A-levels, rather than potential Cambridge students studying Science.  
“Where’s your interview?”  
“Corpus Christi. It’s down the next street. I think.”  
Nodding, he replied “Mine’s at Kings’. I’m staying at the Camelot. It’s a pub on Guildhall-“  
“Oh, I know the Camelot.” Interrupted Merlin excitedly, earning a chuckle from Lance. “I’m staying there too.”  
“Excellent.” He replied, clapping Merlin on the back. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use a drink before my interview, so I say we head there as soon as possible.”  
Despite the fact that Merlin wanted to laugh at how much Lance seemed like an actual Cambridge scholar, he was glad that he seemed to have found a friend in the city so quickly, so followed him cheerfully as they headed towards the pub.

A wooden board announced that Corpus Christi College was ‘Closed to visitors’ for the duration of the interviews, but a rectangle of grass and part of a wall was visible through the half-closed doors. As he gazed longingly at it, Merlin found himself drifting off into the familiar fantasy of being able to call this wonderful place his home; walking around (on) the pristine, striped lawns, looking through an old window into a courtyard with a-  
“Merlin!” The sound of his name snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked around to find Lance standing a few steps ahead watching him with an amused expression written across his face. “Do you usually space out like this?”  
“Oh. Um, yeah, sorry.” He replied sheepishly, ears turning red again. “My mum’s always telling me off ‘cause I never hear her when she tells me to do something.”  
For a second, Merlin thought he saw a flash of hurt in Lance’s eyes, but it must have been his imagination or a trick of the light, as when he blinked, there was nothing but the calm serenity he’d shown throughout their encounter.  
Shaking his head softly, he beckoned for Merlin to follow as he continued down the road, turning right just before they reached the beginning of King’s Parade. 

Half an hour later, both Merlin and Lance’s suitcases were in their respective rooms, Lance now in his interview clothes, and they were sitting at the bar chatting amicably as if they had been friends for years.  
“How long have you been interested in history then?” asked Lance, taking a small sip of his J2O (he didn’t want to drink before the interview).  
“Always, really. I’ve been interested in myths and legends since I could read, and me and my friend Will used to pretend to be knights a lot when we got bored.”  
The corners of Lance’s eyes crinkled up in a smile at this, and he nodded “Every little boy’s dream seems to be being a knight.”  
“No, I usually argued with him until he let me be a wizard or a dragon.” Laughed Merlin, a voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn’t have said that word, even as a joke. “What was your dream then?”  
“I didn’t really have one until I was 11. My village was hit by a disease which wiped out nearly everyone. I was on holiday at my grandma’s at the time, so I didn’t catch it, but they were quarantined and two-thirds of the people trapped inside caught the illness. Both my parents died. And I decided then that I wanted to help develop cures for disease, so I’ve been studying science, especially biology, all the way through high school and college. I got 100% in my Biology GCSE.”  
Merlin’s eyes widened comically. “100%? No way.”  
Lance nodded, shooting a sad little smile at Merlin.  
“Hey, I’m sorry about your parents though. If it makes you feel any better, I never even knew my dad.” said Merlin, placing a hand on the other man’s arm.  
Lance looked at him in silent thanks, before glancing at the clock hanging above the bar and reluctantly sliding off his seat. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you afterwards, okay?”  
Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the door and Merlin watched as he pushed it open and disappeared through it, before sighing and laying his head on the table. He had two hours to kill and no-one to stop him from worrying.

An hour and a half later, he entered a small, relatively modern shop with a green front called the Fudge Kitchen. For the seventh time. The past ninety minutes had gone surprisingly quickly, even without Lance beside him, and Merlin thought that might be due to the three demonstrations he’d watched, and the resulting free fudge samples. Kings’ college seemed suddenly appealing, and he was jealous of Lance for his proximity to this little shop of heaven, which constantly smelled of melted chocolate, and produced fudge better than any he had ever tasted. And Merlin usually didn’t even like fudge. If he actually got accepted, Merlin thought as he chewed his second sample of white chocolate fudge, he was going to get seriously fat with all these free samples of fudge so tantalisingly close to his doorstep. Unless, a horrible thought had just entered his head, they recognised him, and eventually banned him from the shop for not buying anything. Then again, he wasn’t the only one who had been darting in and out of the shop every five minutes; a girl who seemed about his age had been in the shop possibly more times than him, as she was there when he arrived and was still hanging around now.

“Hey.” He chanced an introduction as they both reached for a salted caramel taster. “I’m Merlin.”  
“Merlin.” She smiled, before popping the fudge in her mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. “I’d been wondering the name of the person who’s been stalking me in and out of this shop for the last hour.”  
He frowned at her, unable to say anything until he swallowed the fudge and replied “I’m not stalking you. If you must know, I’m a professional fudge investigator, and I’m legally obliged to taste every sample here.”  
Giggling, she slipped her small hand into his, and pulled him from the shop, walking out into the street, and down the road, towards a church surrounded by a crowd of people. “I’m Gwen. Unfortunately not a professional fudge investigator, but here for the interviews, like you are, I’m guessing.”  
“How did you know?” asked Merlin, smiling down at her; she barely reached his shoulders, even with the volume of her messy curls.  
“I’d imagine if you lived here the novelty of free fudge would wear off.”  
“How could free fudge possibly wear off?” asked Merlin incredulously, causing her to giggle again.  
“I’m as flummoxed as you are,” she replied, “But if it didn’t get boring after a while, then the shop would be full all the time, and I doubt they’d do free samples if the entire student body came here every day.”  
“You’re actually pretty smart.” Said Merlin, impressed, and she pushed him lightly.  
“This is Cambridge university.”  
“I suppose it is, isn’t it?” he replied, more to himself than anything else, yet when he looked down at her he found she was wearing a grin identical to his own  
“What are you taking then?” she questioned, but before he’d opened her mouth she interrupted. “No wait, let me guess.”  
Her eyes ran up and down him, narrowing in concentration, and Merlin shifted uncomfortably as she quietly appraised him.  
“Well, you’re kind of gangly, so I want-”  
“Hey!” he glared at her, folding his arms over his chest in a poor impersonation of annoyance.  
“-So I want to say you’re a physics nerd,” she continued, only giving a mischievous smile to show that she’d heard him, “But you don’t really act very nerdy.”  
“I suppose that’s a compliment, is it?” he raised an eyebrow, and she grinned again.  
“I don’t want to say law, ‘cause that seems too boring for you. Um, I’m going to guess history?”  
“No way!” he exclaimed, forgetting his mask of irritation for a moment. “How’d you do that?”  
“Educated guess.” She smiled. “You could probably work out what I’m applying for.”  
Mind running over the courses he knew about for a moment before deciding on one, Merlin hazarded a guess. “English?”  
She nodded, curls bouncing with the motion. “What time’s your interview?”  
“I’ve already had it.” He lied, wanting to test her and see if she really was as smart as she seemed.  
“No you haven’t.” She responded instantly, continuing before he had a chance to speak. “You kept checking your watch.”  
Shaking his head in disbelief, he answered her previous question. “I have to be there in 15 minutes.”  
“What college is it?”  
“Can’t you work that out, Sherlock?” he teased, grinning at her as she took his hand again and began walking down the street, surprisingly in the right direction.  
“I’m not psychic, you know.”  
“Corpus Christi. What time’s yours?”  
“Half an hour at Jesus.”  
“Jesus, you better get going then, that’s right across town.” He responded, letting her hand fall from his. “No pun intended.”  
“Sure.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “Give me your mobile first though.”  
Reaching for it in the pocket of his rather worn jeans, he handed it to her, and waited rather impatiently for her to give it back. Once it was in his hand again, he quickly flicked through his contacts to find ‘Gwen Smith’ listed before ‘Home’, and he tucked it back into his pocket before holding out a hand for her to shake. To his surprise, she ignored his outstretched arm, and pulled him in for a hug, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she pulled away and walked in the opposite direction, back towards the church.

“Emrys, Merlin.” Called a voice, and he walked past a girl with long black hair as she gestured into a rather cramped office in which an old man sat behind a desk.  
Mainly to avoid looking at the man sat before him, Merlin looked around the office. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling on every wall, minus where the door was, and every one of them was so packed full of books and folders and sheets of loose paper that Merlin wondered how the man ever found anything in there. Piled waist-height on the floor were hundreds of sheets of lined paper, with a distinctly female handwriting across the top-most sheets, and perched dangerously on the stack of essays was a skull, a dagger and what looked like some sort of plant. The desk in the centre of the room was made from aged wood, and Merlin thought it was a miracle that it hadn’t collapsed under the weight of the thick leather-bound volumes that were stacked on it. At the very front of the desk was a brass plaque, also antique, which read ‘Prof. Gaius, Dept. of History’, and as Merlin was reading this, the person whose name it bore coughed loudly, and he looked up, steeling himself.  
“So, Mr Emrys,” Professor Gaius began, “Why do you want to study history?”

All in all, it went better than Merlin could’ve possibly hoped. Having never been particularly good at speaking under pressure, the fact that Professor Gaius, of Cambridge University, said that he liked him and expected great things was cause enough for him to want to skip through the corridors and down the streets back to The Camelot. However, he managed to restrain himself from both skipping and calling Gwen as soon as he left the college, as he knew she would be in her interview now, or at least waiting for it, and he didn’t want to ruin her chances by a mistimed phone call. Instead, he practically ran back to the pub, dying to tell Lance about his interview, and rather looking forward to a hot cup of tea after the stress of the day. When he reached the bar, he found Lance hunched over a beer, knuckles white with the force he was exerting on his glass.  
“Lance?” he asked tentatively, and the other man whirled so fast Merlin felt sure he was going to knock his drink over.  
“Merlin!” greeted Lance, far more jovially that Merlin had expected. “How did it go?”  
“Alright, I think. What about yours?”  
“I think it was okay. God, there were so many posh people there though. I mean, I expected there to be, and I know Kings’ especially is mainly public school, but it was an open application and they wanted to interview me. But all I’ve got is my brains and they’ll all have money and connections too and what if my brains aren’t enough, I just-”  
“Lance.” Said Merlin firmly, cutting off his increasingly panicked babbling. “Relax. You got 100% in your biology GCSE. If anyone’s got the brains to do this, it’s you.”  
Nodding slowly, he seemed to calm down, hands loosening on his pint, and eyes becoming less worried. “Yeah, I guess. It was just a bit of a shock. Thanks Merlin. No point worrying about it now though, right?”

“Right.” Merlin smiled, turning away the barmaid who came to offer him a drink.  
“You don’t want a drink?” Lance raised his eyebrows, a little surprised.  
“Not here. Come on, there’s a creperie on the end of King’s Parade, I want some lunch.” Merlin pulled at his arm, forcing him to abandon the almost empty glass on the bar, and the barmaid that had been smiling at him with unnaturally red lips.  
“What were you doing on King’s Parade?” he asked, turning to the other boy in confusion.  
“just wandering. I found a really nice fudge shop. Which reminds me, when we reach the café, tell me to text Gwen.” As he spoke, Merlin felt his hand drifting subconsciously to his pocket to check his phone was still there, as he did obsessively six or seven times a day, even in the tiny village of Ealdor.  
“Who’s Gwen?” curiosity coloured Lance’s tone now, and Merlin shot him a sideways smile.  
“A friend. You’ll like her. At least, I think you will.”  
“Friend?” repeated Lance doubtfully, the implication in his tone obvious.  
“Yeah, I met her this morning.” He replied honestly as they walked up the street.  
“You met her this morning and you already have her number?” Lance’s eyes widened in shock, “You don’t half move fast, do you?”  
Laughing, Merlin replied “Oh no, we’re definitely just friends. We talked for five minutes and she gave me her number, that’s all.”  
“If she’s given you her number after five minutes, I think you’ve got a chance Merlin.” Said Lance, something approaching admiration in his voice, which didn’t make sense because surely handsome, confident Lance would have no trouble getting girls’ phone numbers.  
Still hulking, Merlin shook his head. “I don’t want a chance. And I think she’s just friendly.”  
“Well if you don’t like her, why do you think I will?” pressed Lance, now much more venturing and curious than he seemed when the first met.  
“I’ve told you, I like her as a friend. And I don’t know why you’d like her, aside from the fact that she’s really cool. It just seems like you two will like each other.”  
At these words, Lance looked at Merlin in confusion, and Merlin blushed, internally cursing himself at how open he was with his friends. Despite all that he’d said about Gwen being psychic or a genius, Merlin himself had always had a fairly good measure on other people. It was hard to explain, but he always seemed to get a flavour of the person, and automatically knew whether two people were compatible or whether they’d dislike one another. Unfortunately, this theory had never applied to Merlin’s own relationships, which usually ended badly. For Merlin, at least.

“Hello?” A hand was waving in front of his face, and Merlin suddenly became aware of Lance, who was watching him with some concern. “You spaced out again.”  
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He mumbled, attempting a smile whilst looking around. “We’re here?”  
“Yes. You didn’t notice?” asked Lance, now seeming even more worried for his friend’s mental well-being.  
Apparently Merlin’s feet required no link whatsoever with his brain, as they had walked him the length of King’s Parade without his noticing, and he realised with some disappointment that they’d passed the fudge shop. However, a wonderful smell was wafting out of the café on the corner, and Merlin followed the scent inside eagerly, Lance trailing after.

As they joined the queue, Merlin felt a light tap on his elbow, and Lance spoke quietly. “You need to text Gwen.”  
Eyes lighting up as he remembered, he dug his phone out of his pocket and quickly unlocked it, before clicking on the contact she’d created and typing out a brief message.  
To: Gwen Smith 14:57  
Creperie on the corner of King’s Parade? (Professional Fudge Inspector)  
A moment later his phone buzzed and he read the reply with a grin.  
From: Gwen Smith 14:58  
Hot choc & lemon&sugar. Ur paying. At fudge shop, there in 5 (Sherlock)  
Stepping forward to the front of the queue, he relayed his order to a cheerful boy who couldn’t have been more than 17. “Two hot chocolates, one with cream, one lemon and sugar pancake and one nutella with caramel sauce please. Lance?”  
The other man shook his head as Merlin handed over the money, saying “I ate at The Camelot.”  
Once Merlin had paid, they took seats by a window, and simultaneously a bell tinkled as the door opened to reveal a pretty girl with dark hair, who Merlin waved at.  
“Lance, this is Gwen. Gwen, Lance.” Merlin gestured as Lance pulled up a chair for the newcomer.  
Before they had even greeted each other though, Merlin asked eagerly “So how was it?”  
Rolling her eyes as she shrugged off her jacket, she replied “Better than I thought. You?”  
Merlin nodded his agreement, before they both turned to Lance, Gwen asking politely “And how was yours?”  
Seeming surprised at being so quickly included, or maybe just stunned by how pretty he found the girl, and stuttered an ‘okay’, before falling silent again, causing Merlin’s smirk to grow.  
Luckily, Lance was saved from the necessity of saying anything more by the arrival of the food, and a tray baring two full mugs and warm plates was placed before them. Simultaneously, his two friends reached over the table towards their respective pancakes, grabbing them before looking at the hot chocolates and each other.  
“Which is mine?”  
“No cream,” Merlin replied confidently as he took his own cream-topped mug and sipped from it, giving himself a white moustache that caused Gwen to laugh before he wiped it off.  
“Good guess.” She nodded, taking a bite from her pancake and smiling contentedly.  
Merlin put his drink down and did the same, sweetness filling his mouth in the form of the rich caramel sauce drizzled over it. A frown appeared on his features however, when he looked down and saw nutella dripped on the crisp ivory of his interview shirt, and he reflected that he probably should have changed before coming here. Bursting into laughter at the site, Gwen fished around in her handbag for a moment, before drawing out a BlackBerry and snapping a photo of Merlin’s pout and the chocolate on his shirt. Glaring at her, he wondered fruitlessly how her own blouse was still pristine, and in his head decided that while Gwen was almost certainly not like him, she was her own kind of magic anyway.


	2. Acceptance and Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cambridge university.” She began, in an upper-class tone that made Merlin want to fall asleep. “Known worldwide as one of the most prestigious universities a student can attend, and the subject of much national focus this year especially, as His Royal Highness Prince Arthur applied there earlier this year. Now we can reveal that the young prince, well-known for his stint in the army and his top position in teen magazine Shout’s ‘Hottest Celebrities of the Year’ list, has been accepted into the distinguished university.”  
> “Merlin!” Hunith practically squealed as a transition rolled. “You’re going to the same school as Prince Arthur!”

Head colliding painfully with the top of the cupboard, stars appeared before Merlin’s eyes and he staggered backwards swearing as Hunith repeated his name downstairs.  
“Merlin! Your school’s on TV.”  
Rolling his eyes and clutching at his head, he stumbled out of his room and downstairs, where his mum was perched on the end of the sofa, eyes glued to the TV.  
“Mum, that’s not even my school.” Merlin groaned as he took a seat next to her, watching as the TV played a montage of clips of the different Cambridge colleges, before cutting to a woman standing on King’s Parade.  
“But it will be.” Said Hunith excitedly, before shushing him as the reporter began to speak  
“Cambridge university.” She began, in an upper-class tone that made Merlin want to fall asleep. “Known worldwide as one of the most prestigious universities a student can attend, and the subject of much national focus this year especially, as His Royal Highness Prince Arthur applied there earlier this year. Now we can reveal that the young prince, well-known for his stint in the army and his top position in teen magazine Shout’s ‘Hottest Celebrities of the Year’ list, has been accepted into the distinguished university.”  
“Merlin!” Hunith practically squealed as a transition rolled. “You’re going to the same school as Prince Arthur!”  
“I don’t even know if I’ve got in yet.” Merlin replied, butterflies filling his stomach at the knowledge that the acceptances had begun to be sent. “Besides, who cares?”  
Before Hunith had the opportunity to scold her son however, another woman began speaking on the TV; a lady with ebony hair and a pale face, dressed smartly in a pink blouse and dark violet jacket, was looking at the camera with a smile that didn’t quite ring true.  
“So, Prince Arthur, you’re starting at Cambridge next term, I understand?”  
Breath suddenly gone from his body, Merlin watched as the Prince of Wales appeared on the screen, dressed simply in a pale blue polo shirt that highlighted the sky-blue of his iris. “Yes, I’ve finished my stint in the armed forces, and shall be spending the next three years studying at Cambridge.”  
Nodding, she asked politely “And where will you be staying for the duration of these three years?”  
“At Kings’ College.” He replied, smiling in a friendly manner.  
“Which is quite fitting, as you’re next in line for the throne. What course will you be taking?”  
“History.”  
Speechless, Merlin’s eyes sought out his mother’s, and they looked at one another in shock before he groaned, resting his head in his hands.  
“Seriously? Even if I somehow manage to get into Cambridge, my lectures will be filled with bodyguards and photographers and screaming fangirls-”  
“And fanboys.” Interrupted Hunith, smirking at him.  
Glaring at her, he stood up abruptly and began pacing, switching off the TV as he moved. “God, I don’t want to go to school with that pompous ass.”  
“Merlin Emrys!” exclaimed Hunith, which actually caused Merlin to look a little abashed, and he stopped pacing for a second. “Kindly do NOT insult the prince of the country we’re living in. Besides, he seems like a perfectly nice young gentleman to me.”  
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But he’s still an ass. He’s just a royal one.” Rushing out of the lounge to avoid his mother’s reprimands, he hurried upstairs to his bedroom.

A week later, Merlin was clutching a take-away Costa hot chocolate and hurrying down an almost empty street in Ealdor when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Digging it out of his jeans pocket, he unlocked it and read the notification that flashed across the screen, which read ‘1 New Email’. Clicking on it, he stopped dead in the street, staring for a moment before a collision snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to reality rather painfully; his hand was stinging from the heat of his drink as it splashed onto his fingers. As the other person continued walking away without a second glance, Merlin looked back at his phone, heart thumping painfully in his chest, but also seeming to swell with excitement.  
From: Cambridge University History Department (undergraduate.history@cam.ac.uk)  
Dear Mr Emrys,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place on Cambridge University’s History Course. Please read the attached list of all necessary details. Term begins on 1st of September.  
Yours sincerely,  
Professor Gaius, department of History, Cambridge University  
Considering it briefly, he almost burst out laughing when he realised why the words seemed familiar, remembering on his fifth birthday reading about a boy who received a letter beginning with ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ To Merlin, right now, this moment seemed almost as surreal, and it hit him that all his dreams and plans were falling into place. Suddenly, almost causing him to spill what was left of his hot chocolate, his phone started ringing, and he hurriedly answered it, bringing it up to his hear to hear a loud shriek.

“Hey Gwen.” He greeted his friend, who he’d kept in contact with since the day they met, via weekly phone calls and emails.  
“Oh my God, Merlin, I just got an email.” She babbled excitedly, and Merlin grinned to himself before replying.  
“Same.”  
“I got in. Oh my God, I wasn’t expecting to get in.” she sounded a little like she was on the verge of tears. “Please tell me you did too?”  
“Yeah, I literally just got the email two seconds ago.” He replied, chuckling when she let out another little scream.  
“Oh my God we’re going to university together.” she said. “We’re going to Cambridge University together.”  
Laughing, still unable to keep the smile off his face, he answered “I know, Gwen. Look, I’m sorry, I have to get home and tell my mum, but I’ll call you back later, okay?”  
“Okay, I have to tell my dad anyway. Bye.” She hung up, and Merlin felt a deep affection for his friend at the fact that she’d called him before her father, who he knew she was very close to.

Ten minutes later, he walked through the front door of his home, shouting “Mum, guess what?”  
Appearing from the kitchen, she frowned at him in confusion. “What?”  
“I got an email,” He grinned, waiting to see if she would understand before he continued, “From Cambridge.”  
He wished he had a camera to capture Hunith’s expression in that moment, travelling from confusion to recognition and then suddenly overcome with overwhelming joy and pride as she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.  
“Oh, my baby.” She said, much to Merlin’s chagrin. “Oh, I’m so proud of you.”  
He let her hug him for a moment, giving her a chance to calm down, before pulling away slightly. “Gwen got in too.”  
“Oh, wonderful,” beamed Hunith, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her old cardigan, “I’ll have to meet her when I drop you off.”  
“Sure, you can meet Lance too. Actually, I need to call Lance.” He said, heading up to his room to find out whether his friend had been accepted.  
“Okay.” She said, walking back to the kitchen, which was letting out the distinctive smell of baking cookies. “But Merlin,”  
Turning on the bottom step, he looked at her expectantly.  
“You realise you’re going to school with a royal ass now, right?” she asked, smirking.  
Merlin just sighed.

“You got in too?” asked Lance excitedly, as soon as Merlin called.  
“Hello to you too.” Replied Merlin, laughing.  
“Sorry, I’ve been waiting for you to call for a week.” Lance said, a little sheepish.  
“A week?” Merlin repeated, incredulous. “Why?”  
“I got my acceptance last week, but I didn’t want to call in case you didn’t get in.”  
“Why not? I would’ve been happy for you.” Merlin answered, shaking his head at his friend’s ridiculous sense of nobility and his reluctance to do anything which could make others upset.  
“Yeah, I know.” He replied, and Merlin could hear the grin in his voice. “And, um, Gwen?”  
Smiling to himself, he nodded, then realising Lance couldn’t see him, quickly said ‘yes’ into the phone. His two friends had hit it off when he introduced them in the creperie, and while Lance was rather quiet around her, she had coaxed him out of his silence with jokes and stories about her past, and Merlin thought that by the time they all said goodbye, Lance was more than a little smitten.  
“Alright then. That’s…good.” He replied, and Merlin reflected on how much easier they found it to speak face to face, which was why his friendship with Gwen had been maintained much better through all the laughter they shared over the phone.  
“I’ll call you later?” answered Merlin after a moment of silence.  
“Bye.” Lance waited for Merlin to bid him farewell and hang up, which he did quickly before laying back on his bed, grinning once more. He was going to Cambridge.

Only the wind that was blowing indicated that autumn was approaching, as they stepped out of the car into blinding sunlight. Going round to the boot, Merlin heaved two large suitcases from it, and began dragging them towards the old building, as his mother wheeled a third one behind him. Smiling at her gasp, he pulled the cases through a door, before stopping in front of a narrow staircase. Groaning slightly, he glanced around, before whispering something just as Hunith arrived at the steps, not noticing how the suitcase she pulled had gotten lighter, along with Merlin’s two. Surprisingly, she didn’t comment on how easy it was to manoeuvre the suitcase upstairs, though whether that was because she didn’t notice or didn’t care, Merlin didn’t know. Once they had dumped his bags unceremoniously in the cramped room, he ushered his mother back down the stairs and out of the college, insisting that she could see it when he’d unpacked and she visited later in the year. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he quickly texted both Gwen and Lance to meet him at the fudge shop in fifteen minutes. Introducing Gwen and Lance to Hunith went exactly as expected; Lance was his overly polite, quiet, charming self, while Gwen immediately folded his mother into a hug and began chatting as if they’d know each other for years. As they babbled incessantly about who knew what, he and Lance shared a brief discussion about what they’d been doing in the past few months, before the four of them decided what they were going to do next.

Why Merlin had agreed to go punting, he wasn’t quite sure, and his already existent fear of falling into the murky water was only heightened by the fact that they were letting Lance punt them. Punting, as Merlin had discovered approximately 33 minutes ago, was sitting in a boat while someone stood at one end with a big stick and moved the boat through the water by pushing off the riverbed. So far they had almost capsized twice, yet for some reason Merlin seemed to be the only one even remotely bothered by their close proximity to the water, which increased every so often as the boat rocked. Despite his hatred of the punting itself, however, it was an excellent way of viewing the backs of all the colleges, and the bridges that stretched across the Cam. While Lance seemed to take interest in the Mathematical Bridge, Gwen, Merlin and Hunith all preferred the Bridge of Sighs, which was beautiful in an old, sort of sad way. It was quite peaceful really, and Merlin quickly tuned out the chatter of the other three, instead gazing at the gently rippling water as they floated slowly down the river. As the others were otherwise engaged, he had the opportunity to create interestingly shaped ripples in the dark liquid, muttering under his breath and sending images of minotaurs, unicorns and dragons over the soft waves. A flock of sparkling butterflies had just surrounded the boat when Hunith finally noticed, and elbowed her son, glaring at him until the butterflies faded into bubbles.

Shortly after the third time of nearly toppling them over, Lance decided that maybe punting wasn’t really his thing and that they should head back to get something to eat, as both Merlin and Gwen had been complaining for ten minutes that they had never been so hungry. When they finally reached the dock, Merlin helped his mother out of the boat, smirking as Lance offered a hand to Gwen, who took it, blushing. While Merlin would have been perfectly ready to eat anything, Gwen insisted that they seek out a café she had visited two days previously with her father, which was ‘the equivalent of Betty’s in York’. Never having been to York, Merlin had no idea what this was supposed to mean, but the others seemed enthusiastic about it, so he grudgingly agreed, commenting that the food better compensate for the time it took to walk there. Cambridge being a rather small, very accessible city, it didn’t actually take that long, and it fifteen minutes they were sat inside ‘Fitzwilliam’s’, eating huge slices of carrot, chocolate, coffee and lemon drizzle cake.  
Frowning at Merlin at he wiped chocolate sauce from his nose, Hunith turned to Lance. “Merlin told me you’re taking biology?”  
Swallowing a mouthful of cake, Lance replied, “Yes, I want to find cures for diseases and help develop medicines.”  
“Well I think that’s brilliant.” She beamed, causing Lance to blush. “Merlin was fairly good at Science in high school, you know. In Chemistry he did cause a few problems with his friend Will, but he was very good at Physics.”  
Gwen nearly choked on the lemon sponge she was eating. “I told you! I said when we met you looked like a physics nerd.”  
“Well I think it was more an interest in the teacher than the subject, to be honest.”, Hunith chuckled, as her son groaned, resting his head on the table. “Jesus was one of the only three teachers he ever listened to.  
“Jesus?”, asked Lance, confused.  
“That was just what Merlin used to call him. Apparently he looked like a ‘beautiful Victorian Jesus’, if I remember correctly.”  
“I was 14.”, Merlin complained, as Gwen’s eyes starting watering with laughter. Attempting to change the subject, he poked at his mum’s cake with his fork, asking, “Why do you get this? Cake is supposed to be sweet and unhealthy. Just eat carrots.”  
Batting his hand away, she replied, “Actually Merlin, I like this cake, so please be quiet and eat yours.”  
Chuckling quietly as Merlin scowled, Lance asked, “Mrs Emrys, what do you do?”  
“Hunith, please. And I’m a librarian in Ealdor.”  
“Ooh, really? I was a part time librarian back home.” Gwen said excitedly, and they began to chat animatedly about their favourite books, as Lance and Merlin rolled their eyes fondly.

Wandering down King’s Parade half an hour later, Hunith and Gwen were still talking, having fallen into an easy conversation about English Literature, while Merlin and Lance walked a step behind, chatting about a TV show they both liked.  
“They are never going to kiss.” Lance repeated firmly.  
“Why not?” Merlin asked for the third time, scowling.  
“Because. They just won’t. It doesn’t fit in with the stories; John is supposed to get married.”  
“Doesn’t fit in with the stories? At least 57% doesn’t fit in with the stories. Besides, I’m not saying John can’t get married. He just can’t marry Mary.”  
Shaking his head, Lance looked away, and they continued walking in silence, not really annoyed with each other, just running low on conversation topics. As they passed the creperie, Merlin’s mind trailed down a route of tangled memories and hazy dreams he was very familiar with, the image of – Ow! Wincing as a sharp elbow crashed into his ribs, Merlin glared up at Lance, who was not even looking at his victim, but instead gazing back down the street. Eyes drawn to the uniform black cars crawling down the street, he watched them, like everyone else, as they pulled up before the entrance to King’s college. The door to the middle one opened and out stepped Arthur Pendragon. His Royal Highness, Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Wales. Dressed simply in an ivory shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and jeans that probably cost £300, he walked confidently towards the doors of the college, pushed them open, and disappeared behind them. Slowly, people began to move again, and a hand gently closed Merlin’s mouth, which had fallen open in shock.  
“We’d best hope you’re sat in front of him when term starts, or you’ll be too busy staring at the back of his head to do any work.” Gwen smirked.  
Merlin just blushed.

“Hey.” The smile Arthur bestowed on his sister was perfunctory, half-hearted, tired – a mere shadow of the real smile that she rarely ever saw.  
“Come on, Arthur, I thought you liked people staring at you.” Morgana joked, placing a comforting hand on his arm, before heading to the kitchen of his new rooms and flicking the kettle on as Arthur slumped onto the crimson sofa.  
“I don’t know, I’m just not sure if I can put up with this for three years.”  
Concernedly, she replied, “Arthur, you’ve worked for years to get here. You can’t give up because a couple of people looked at you after all that. The attention will die down, I promise.”  
As she spoke, she poured them both teas, heaping spoons of sugar into her mug before moving to the spare seat next to Arthur, who sighed dejectedly, “I know, it’s just – It’s not going to be easy, is it?”  
Shaking her head, she replied softly, “Arthur. It never is.”

For a few minutes they just sat quietly sipping their tea, and occasionally glance out of the window at Kings’ wide courtyard, which was blanketed in stripes of jade and emerald grass.  
“So,” began Morgana, breaking the uncomfortable silence and causing her brother to look at her warily, “Looking forward to working with lots of commoners and peasants?”  
Scowling, Arthur replied, “I won’t be working with them, I’m just in the same class.”  
“Actually,” Morgana smirked, “I believe Professor Gaius usually begins the course with a collaboration project.”  
Eyes widening, he accused his sister, “You knew that! Why didn’t you tell me?”  
Rolling her eyes, she answered firmly, “Because, Arthur, I didn’t want to give you another reason not to come when you were unsure enough as it is. You would have regretted it for the rest of your life if you hadn’t come here.”  
Arthur only managed to maintain his glower for a few second after this statement, before his face relaxed and he nodded slowly; he couldn’t be angry at his sister when her concern was so obvious. And also, she was probably right.

“Thank you.” He muttered quietly, and she smiled.  
“You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s brilliant.” She reassured before drinking the rest of her tea and moving to stand by the window. “Crowd’s died down a bit. Owain and Pellinore have driven the cars around the back, so do you want to go out or stay and get settled in?”  
Briefly considering, Arthur decided he’d rather sleep before facing anymore crowds, and he’d had quite enough of his bodyguard, Percy, in the car.  
“I think I’ll stay here and rest.”  
“Wonderful. Okay, well I’m going to head out for a drink with Elena. So if you need anything, your staff will arrive tomorrow.”  
Rolling his eyes, he called a quick ‘bye’ as she waved and slipped out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Yawning, Arthur pushed himself up from the sofa, and ambled over to his new room, which was quite a bit smaller that he was accustomed to at home. Sighing, he collapsed onto the bed and unlaced his boots, pulling them off and then taking his socks off, leaving both on the carpet. Slowly, he lay back on the cover of the uncomfortable new bed, as it was much too warm for the scarlet blanket folded at the foot of it. Eyes fluttering closed, he fell into a deep sleep, in which he dreamed of Kings’ lawns and spacious corridors, of a first in history and, for some inexplicable reason, a knight, a dragon, and a sorcerer whose face he couldn’t quite make out.

As his friends had been settled in for a couple of days, they kindly offered to help him unpack, which was probably just an excuse to see his new room. Personally, he didn’t see what the fuss was about, as the rooms were probably all similar, and he tried to persuade them that it was really just a boring space at the moment. Lovely as he thought their offer though, he would definitely get the job done much faster on his own. He just needed to get rid of his mum first. Luckily, they whiled away the hours before her train at four by visiting The Fudge Kitchen, an art museum and the Cambridge Press, a large bookshop that Lance (forever the sensible one) had to drag them away from so that Hunith could get to the station in time.

Gwen and Lance retreated to their rooms so Merlin could unpack and say goodbye to his mum, and now it was just them standing on the quiet platform, the barest whisper of wind ruffling Merlin’s hair as he shifted anxiously from side to side. Now everything was so close, he could no longer pretend that the prospect of leaving home didn’t scare him. Didn’t absolutely terrify him. In all Merlin’s 18 years and eight months, they hadn’t really been apart from each other for over a week, and that was when Will’s mum took him on holiday with them while Hunith had to work. Abruptly, Hunith grabbed her son, pulling him in for a tight hug, and he wrapped his long arms around her, patting her back awkwardly in an attempt to comfort her, feeling the damp warmth of her tears soak through his tee to his shoulder. Steeling himself, he pulled back, determined not to cry as he let his mum climb onto the train and wave goodbye.

Turning a shiny silver key in the lock, he opened the door to his new room. Currently, three large navy suitcases were stacked up in a corner, two huge boxes of books on one desk and a pile of folders on the sofa, but despite its disorder, it was surprisingly clean, fitted with two desks, a small TV and DVD player and a turquoise sofa. The walls were plain white, a worn navy carpet covered the floor and altogether it had a rather homely feel to it, despite the boxes and cases. Speaking of which, Merlin really should start unpacking. Closing his eyes breathing slowly, he muttered some words quietly, words of a language hardly anyone knew, but that was as natural to him as English. When he opened his eyes, they were gold.


End file.
